Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Text-to-speech is a wonderful thing, though I've had to edit the text a little because 'Alex' doesn't pronounce some words particularly well and I had to use Garageband to tinker with the timings where I could (I could probably have played with Alex's intonation as well but there's a limit to how much time I was able to spend on it!).

But there's a 4 minute 23 second extract from 'Smoking Hot', my novella in the Naked Delirium collection, that you can hear over on my Tumblr blog.

And 'Smoking Hot' is available as an individual novella in about 10 different ebook formats over at Smashwords. The whole collection and other four novellas are all there individually as well - here's a link that lists them all.

The mind has the power to save us from depravity...or to drive us further to it! NAKED DELIRIUM delves deep into the human psyche to celebrate sex in altered states! Five twisted tales, lusciously illustrated by Giorgio Verona! Within these pages, we invite you explore the indecent expanse of the unfettered mind, and maybe get a little bit delirious yourself. Free your mind....and great sex will follow!

I won't give you the whole set of synopses for all the stories (they're on Amazon and Smashwords anyway) save to say that the altered states tend to revolve around paranormal activity - except for 'Smoking Hot', in which hypnosis has helped Hannah kick a 40-a-day smoking habit. But hypnosis can release unconscious desires. As the story says:

The weirdness kicked in pretty quickly, right about the time she would, in her former habitual-smoker lifestyle, have reached for her next cigarette.Hannah wasn’t innocent. She knew exactly why the weirdness was happening. Her subconscious had been processing ideas and leaving her with, apparently, self-confidence, clarity of purpose and intent, and better and more positive ways to lead her life.She was still exactly the same person: but then again, she wasn’t. She’d become someone new and different, someone with a more self-confident, clearer, positive intent.An intent to do the things her subconscious had kept bottled up for, well, quite a few years.

Oh yeah - I don't know about the others, but I happen to know Velvet Tripp's novella 'A Woman Possessed' has some very hot menage and bdsm in it (I was fortunate enough to be able to read it pre-publication) and my own story has the usual touch of bdsm and bondage you'd expect in one of my stories. In other words, rather a lot.

Happy reading... and as an afterthought, I'll leave you with one of the illustrations by Giorgio Verona (I think taken from the novella 'Gilinda and the wicked Witch' by Vanessa de Sade).

Thursday, 16 August 2012

I haven't posted an actual story here for some time. So here's a thousand words or so of free erotica, my take on the daddy porn that's been popular over the last year or so. And if you want to know more about the Electra Complex, Wikipedia is a good starting point.

***

Lllaaaaashhhlp! That’s Baby, pressing her tongue hard against my cock and running
it slowly up the length, from root to tip. She’ s in her favourite position,
kneeling on the floor between my legs. She can stay like that for hours if I
let her, toying with my cock in her mouth like it’s a lollipop.

Baby’s wearing pigtails and high heels.

‘Pleeeeease, Daddy,’ she says. ‘Please buy
me a dress. We have them in the shop. They’re really nice. Really short. You’ll
like me in it. Just think of me bent over, showing you my pussy when it rides
up at the back. Just think of my hard tits outlined under that material. Think
of your cock sliding in and out of me.’

‘You know the rule, Baby. No clothes in the house.’

Her face brightens. ‘Do you want to take me
out? To a fetish club? Maybe show me off to your friends? Then you could give
me that date-rape drug like you did last time…’

Yeah. Amazing how well a phial of sugared
water works when Baby’s had a couple of drinks. When she’s in the mood she’s
very suggestible.

I change the subject.

‘Why don’t you tell me what happened at the
shop today?’ Baby works at a women’s clothing store, an independent place that
specialises in clubwear, dancewear, lapdance and poledance and stripper
clothing. It’s popular. Economic recessions always make that kind of stuff
popular with couples for a night in; with men who want their women to act out
fantasies; with women who fancy their chances of making a buck out of their
sexuality.

She pouts. Puts one hand around the base of
my cock, uses the palm of the other to massage the helmet. Looks up at me. ‘Nothing
much. Well, just the one thing.’

She fits my cock back in her mouth.
Teasing. I use the pigtails to lift her head again.

‘Tell.’

‘Promise you won’t punish me, Daddy?’

Like fuck. That’s her standard line when
she wants to be punished. I reach out to the coffee table. I always leave a set
of handcuffs there, for just these times. She does the Oww Daddy you don’t need to cuff me stuff, and the expressive
wriggle of her shoulder blades. But she also does the hip wriggle that means
she’s liking it.

I use those pigtails to pull her head back,
arching her neck.

‘Tell.’

‘Yes, Daddy. I was in the shop on my own
for a lot of the afternoon. A guy came in, a really fit guy like he works out a
lot. Wanted to buy a dress for his girlfriend. The dress I want, it’s the same
style he picked. It’s a nice one in metallic red, thigh length, slit sides,
open back so it covers your shoulder blades but not your spine. It’s a stretchy
one-size-fits-all, but he wasn’t sure how it would look on his girlfriend. Said
I was the same size as her and wanted me to model it. So I did. It felt really
clingy and sexy when I wore it. I opened the curtain to the changing booth and
showed him, and he wanted me to turn around to see the back. Then he suddenly
put his hand on the back of my neck, pushed my face into the wall and I felt
his fingers on my pussy. Because I wasn’t wearing any underwear because you
never let me wear any, Daddy.’

I know where this is going. It’s a cuckold
story, the kind she always tells when she wants a spanking. And there’s a tiny,
tiny chance it might even be true.

‘So I’m pressed up again the wall and his
fingers are inside me and I open my legs a bit, and then he puts his thing
inside me. And I’m really really wet, and he’s pushing and I’m arching my spine
and he’s saying these words in my ear. He told me I’m a fuckslut. Am I a
fuckslut, Daddy? Should I have let him do that to me?’

‘Yes, Baby, you’re a fuckslut. But you’ve
missed out one detail.’

‘You mean the bit out his spunk dribbling
down my leg when he’d finished?’

‘No. The bit about whether he actually
bought the dress.’

‘Oh yeah. Three of them, in red, blue and
gold.’

‘In that case you’re a good shop assistant,
but since you’ve been teasing me I’m definitely going to punish you.’

She goes into the Please Daddy I only did what you told me to routine, and the I’m a very good girl really routine. She
knows how to manipulate me. One of these days I’ll just tie her and leave her
in the garden shed overnight, to prove I can’t be manipulated. But not right
now. Right now I’m going to hurt her, and the only question is which of the
canes, out of the dozen or so in the earthenware pot in the corner, I’m going
to choose. I make her kneel on the coffee table – I bought it because it’s
sturdy enough to take her weight – and because her hands are cuffed behind her
back, she had to support herself on knees and the side of her face, with her
ass in the air.

Thin whippy cane. Twenty-four strokes. She
knows she daren’t move. At the end of it, her thighs are trembling and tears
are streaking her face. Please, Daddy, I
can’t take any more. Please fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me in the ass if you want. Please,
I’ll be your very good Baby. I’ll do anything you say.

Yes, she will. And her pussy is glistening
wet. Fuckable. So I fuck it.

Afterwards I take her off the table, let
her curl up shaking and shivering in my lap and lick her own juices off my cock
while I stroke her hair.

Eventually she says ‘I didn’t come.’

‘I saw you coming. I heard you coming hard
from the cane, even before I fucked you.’

‘No, I mean I didn’t come when the guy
fucked me in the shop.’

‘So you are a good girl, because you
followed the rule. You’re only allowed to come when Daddy fucks you.’

She sighs contentedly.

Biographical note: Baby is thirty-six and a
divorced mother of two. That makes her two years older than me, her Daddy. Her
kids are away with her ex-husband for the weekend, which is why she’s with me. She
had a privileged upbringing, no abuse and no daddy issues. On the other hand, since her divorce - maybe before it as well, and maybe it was the cause of the divorce - she’s into sexual exploration and she knows her psychology. The first man in a
girl’s life, the one she tries to impress and tease and inflame, is her father. This phenomenon has a name: the Electra Complex. It's a particular fascination of Baby's.

I wait until the following Wednesday. By
then she’s back in the shop, being a mother and a breadwinner. And around two
in the afternoon I walk into the shop.

‘I’m interested in buying a dress,’ I say. ‘Maybe
one of these metallic red ones.’

‘You know they’re one size fits all?’

‘Yeah, so they fall differently depending
on who’s wearing them.’

‘Would you like me to model one?’ Sounding
innocent, like she’d do it for anyone.

In the changing booth, I grab her neck and pin
her facing the wall.

It’s a very short dress. When she arches
her back it rises up to display her pussy.

I growl in her ear, telling her she’s a
fuckslut. Feel her hips wriggle impatiently.Twenty minutes later I buy her the dress, on condition she uses her staff discount. But she still won't be allowed to wear it at home. I have a fetish club in mind for the weekend. I'll show her off to my friends.

Saturday, 11 August 2012

Shameless self-promotion: short (4 min) video of Fulani reading from the 'Museum of Deviant Desires' collection: view it on the Fulanismut Tumblr blog.

The segment - which is the beginning of a longer story - goes like this:

Any big music festival, there’s the surreal, sleazy, sexy all-night area. The weird block. Like this one. Jake and Dee, both dressed for sweaty fun and looking for the strange, the weird, the wicked, and the shockingly obscene. Picking their way along the makeshift mud street, thankful they remembered their walking boots. Crowd’s out in force, out looking for fantasies, for inexplicable strangeness to tell each other later when they’re sober. Bodies rubbing up against each other, slipping, sliding, suggestive.Jake and Dee hang onto each other, looking at the freak parade. There are “trannies,” as Jake calls them, and Dee admonishes him and points out the current term is “T-girls.”
Jake asks how she knows that and she tells him: the guy who runs the plumbing supplies company she works at keeps his ballgowns in his office. Also mixed into the crowd there are muddy plushies, rubber-clad dominatrixes, fairies, anime cosplay characters, and a bunch of people who look like they just came out of a LARPwarp.
It’s not sex. Not quite. But almost. Jake’s glad he’s not drunk, Dee’s glad she didn’t do that acid tab. Feels like acid anyway, just walking in the crowd.
And here’s a place, The Museum of Deviant Desires. Interactive Exhibits To Satisfy and Delight All Tastes in Perversity, it says underneath. Lots of people hanging around, because a couple of cute women wearing not much apart from body paint are hanging from a kind of trapeze structure over the door, just beyond the reach of drunk and stoned hands. Well, maybe they’re women. Hard to tell. If they are, they’re wearing strap-ons. If they’re not, they’re transsexual and massively erect. What they are, beyond any doubt, though, is very gymnastic and very sexual.
Flashing lights around the entrance, music pulsing through it from the back of the venue. The music’s tribal and primitive and electronic, with a lot of sub-bass matched with vocals that could come straight from a magic ritual. Maybe they do. Maybe that’s what’s actually happening, inside.
Jake notices Dee’s skinny T-shirt is damp with sweat, her nipples engorged. He notices his cock is engorged. He holds her arm, her biceps, a little more tightly.
“This one? This looks good.”
She laughs and nods, the mingled noises of the crowd and the music making real conversation impossible. They push through the gaggle of people, his grip on her arm turning to handholding, and make it to the entrance. He turns to her and she smiles; he kisses her, turns to walk down the short corridor, is confronted with two curtains. One says “Museum” and the other “Enter At Your Own Risk.” Jake plunges through the Museum curtain.
And he gets an instant hit of darkness and depravity. Because he’s standing in a passageway with big glass windows, like the windows of giant fish tanks. No fish, though. The first window has a woman behind it, naked, kneeling on hands and knees. In fact there are straps on her wrists and forearms, calves and ankles, holding her in that position. She has a ball gag in her mouth and she’s looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Behind her is a rod connected to a set of mechanical gears and eccentric cams, run from a giant electric motor. The end of the rod is connected to a dildo buried in her cunt.
In front of the whole display is a big red button the size of a dinner plate, sign above it says push the button.He pushes the button.

Friday, 3 August 2012

There should be an award for the most ingenious website of the day. Here's one I found via a discussion thread on Goodreads: homemade-sex-toys.com.

You may be amused (I was) by their quiz: 'Sex toy or baby toy?' which asks you to identify a number of pretty strange items (and the answers show them in their packaging).

Also, their 'Build you own sex doll' page is weird yet amusing. There is a problem with these dolls, though - when they posed two dolls together, 'they were so hot for each other, their chemistry literally got out of control and some of their parts started melting. The problem: Cyberskin and some types of rubber are not compatible – when they come into contact, both materials start breaking down into an oily substance.' I had a sudden vision of what might happen to a roomful of these things, all posed together....